Call of the Clan

by Patti Wiggington

  I had no idea where Evan was, nor did I care. It was a bit of a relief not to have him panting down my neck. Maybe our argument of the evening before had convinced him to back off a little bit. Although I didn't want to rule Evan out completely, I deserved a little space.

  Emily wriggled slightly, and I looked up to see Raven climbing over to sit behind me. She hiked her diaphanous robes up to her knees, and with a good deal of jingling from her multitude of bracelets, she arranged herself prettily on the bleachers.

  "Ah, there we are,” she grinned. “Takes a bit o’ time to get myself situated in these things, aye?"

  I smiled back at her. “You could just wear jeans and a sweatshirt, you know."

  She made a derogatory noise in her throat. “Mmrph. Not a bloody chance, when the whole o’ Kilgraeme expects me to turn up dressed like a gypsy."

  Emily Much nodded. “Aye. One time Raven wore a fine suit and no one at all asked for a Seein'."

  "A seein?” I asked.

  "Aye,” said Raven. “It's what I do, aye? I'm a Seer. I have the Sight."

  "Okay,” I murmured. I wasn't sure exactly what the appropriate response to that was. It wasn't as though she'd said she had a cat or a migraine or a new pair of shoes.

  I turned back to look at the field. A blonde-bearded giant was flexing his muscles and preparing to pick up the caber.

  "Wallace Wallace,” whispered Emily. “He's a handsome thing, isn't he?"

  "Beg pardon?"

  "Wallace Wallace, the great big lad on the field. He wins near every year,” she said with obvious admiration.

  "His name is really Wallace Wallace?” I asked, trying to hide a smile.

  "Och, aye,” piped up Raven. “His mam was a Wallace, and his da was a Wallace, so he's just Wallace Wallace."

  "Good thing he wasn't a girl,” I whispered to Emily, who stifled a giggle. Then again, my mother's last name was Brynne. I stopped laughing.

  Wallace Wallace was enormous, and not an ounce of him was fat. We watched as he squatted down, the muscles in his thick, hairy legs bulging beneath his kilt, rubbed some dirt between his hands, and approached the caber. He stood it up lengthwise, slowly, and then with an audible grunt, grasped the end of the caber in his hands. I was on the edge of my seat, and Wallace hoisted the pole onto his shoulder. His pink cheeks were huffing, and there was a gasp of alarm from the crowd as the uppermost end of the caber teetered precariously in the air.

  Wallace managed to steady the caber, and then took a few steps forward. He broke into a trot, and then, running at full speed, flipped the caber up out of his arms, end over end. It landed with a huge thud, and the audience roared their approval.

  "Wow,” I exclaimed, duly impressed. “That's just unbelievable. How do they do that?"

  "Sheer balance, lass,” grinned Mack Piper from my left. “Ye don't have to be a big braw laddie like Wallace, though, aye? Tis all in the balancing."

  I nodded absently. A tall figure had caught my eye, approaching the pit where the caber now lay.

  "Oh, look, there's my brother,” cheered Raven. “Get on up there, you big gowk!"

  He must have heard her, because Cayden looked our way. He paused, said something to one of the other men, and jogged toward us, kilt flapping. He had removed the sword from his belt, but still looked like some ancient Celtic warrior, red hair streaming out loose behind him.

  As he approached, I noticed that his eyes were fixed on me the entire time, and I suddenly felt very warm, despite the coolness of the day. He stopped and bowed formally.

  "Perhaps the Murray would be willing to give me a token for luck?” he smiled.

  "Er, a token?” I stammered.

  "Aye,” Cayden nodded. “In days of old, the fair lassies would give a man a small token to wish him luck against the others."

  I searched my mind frantically. I wasn't carrying a purse, and had no pockets. I had absolutely nothing to give him, and felt incredibly stupid.

  "I'm sorry,” I said, and meant it. “I don't have anything."

  Raven tapped me on the shoulder. “If a lass isn't carryin’ anything, she can give the lad a kiss instead."

  Suddenly, several people around me, who had evidently been listening to the entire exchange, clapped and hooted. “A kiss, a kiss!” they chanted, and I felt myself blush.

  Cayden Spalding was waiting expectantly. The men on the caber field were calling to him, urging him to come take his turn.

  "Go on, then,” nudged Emily. “It's not as if he's ugly, aye?"

  He certainly wasn't, which accounted for the butterflies that had just nested in my stomach. I don't know what got into me, maybe it was the disagreement with Evan the night before, but I decided to be a sport and play along.

  "Oh, all right,” I groaned in mock indignation. “If you all insist."

  The onlookers made it clear that they did. I picked up my skirts, climbed down past Mack Piper to a great deal of friendly catcalling, and stepped over to Cayden.

  I folded my arms firmly across my chest. “So, it's a token you're after, then, is it?” I asked, mimicking his accent good-naturedly. His gray eyes widened slightly.

  "Aye, if you have one to give me, lass,” he replied, the hint of a smile playing on his face. It was obvious that he, and everyone else, was enjoying this, so I was doing my best to take it all in good fun.

  "Well,” I sighed casually, “everyone else seems to think I ought to give you a kiss for luck."

  "Is that so?” His steel-gray eyes were boring straight through me, and I felt even warmer than before. I tried not to think about what it would feel like to have his lips on me again.

  "It is. Do you suppose that would be a suitable enough token to bring you good fortune?” I asked politely. Charleston society would have been so proud of me, I was sweeter than mint juleps and pecan pie.

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose it might."

  "Ah. Well, I guess we'll give it a try then, shall we?” I smiled, and stood up on my tiptoes. It was my every intention to give him a nice chaste brush of the lips, bat my eyes a few times, and hop back into the bleachers.

  Cayden Spalding had other ideas.

  As my lips passed over his, I moved to pull back away from him. The next thing I knew, his arms were around me and there was no escape. I could hear the crowd behind me cheering, as he kissed me a whole lot harder than I had anticipated. His mouth pressed against mine, and my lips yielded. Like the night in the barn, there was a jolt of sheer raw power shooting through my body.

  Just as abruptly, he released me, and stepped back, a satisfied smile on his slightly flushed face. I exhaled deeply and swallowed, trying to get some oxygen.

  "So,” I breathed hoarsely. “Well. Good luck to you, then."

  He nodded. “Thank you."

  With that, he turned and strode back to the caber field. A bit dazed, I climbed back up over Mack Piper into my seat in the bleachers, where I flopped down to a lot of clapping and back-patting. Raven, in particular, seemed pleased.

  "Very nicely done,” she purred.

  "Mmrph,” I replied.

  By rights, I should have been livid at the fact that he kissed me like that in front of a huge crowd of people, after all, I'd been frustrated with Evan for exactly the same thing, but for some reason, I wasn't. Maybe it was just because of the situation. The entire Gathering had the feel of an old-time traveling fair coming to town, with dancing and singing and games and laughter. And with an entire crowd of people chanting at me to give the man a kiss, I couldn't very well have refused without appearing to be a total party pooper.

  When I finally looked up, Cayden Spalding had just won the caber toss.

  * * * *

  Downstairs, Dugald waited. His brother ambled by, and shot a glance in the direction of the primal screams. “No child yet?"

  Dugald shook his head. “Will you stay until it comes?"

  Lachlan laughed, a short, barking sound. “No. Malcolm Spalding is meeting me near the loch. We'v
e work to do."

  "Treasure hunting again, brother?” A hint of a smile played upon Dugald's face.

  "Aye, and we'll see who's smug when I've dug it up, won't we?” Lachlan knew there was gold buried at Kilgraeme. His father said there was no such thing, that he and Tom Spalding had spent it all on whores and whiskey, but Lachlan didn't believe him.

  And once he found it, he'd have enough money to send Dugald off to the Colonies, or some other place where he'd be out of the way. Lachlan had tried once before to have Dugald eliminated, but that had failed, thanks to Malcolm's brother, Will.

  Without another word, he left the house.

  Yet another scream crescendoed through the hall, from the core of Susannah's soul, and Dugald felt it within himself. At last, there was silence, and he fell to his knees.

  Catharine appeared on the stairs, her eyes stained with tears and he stared at her, grief-stricken.

  "Susannah's dead, isn't she?” he whispered.

  She gathered her brother in her arms. “Oh, no, brother. These are tears of joy. You're a father, Dugald, and a finer, fatter baby boy I've never seen!"

  He heard a mewling noise from the chamber above.

  "Go to them, Dugald,” Catharine whispered. “Go to your wife and son."

  And so it was, in May 1757, that Archibald Ludlow Murray came to Kilgraeme.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The evening after the caber toss, as I washed up for dinner, I heard a knock on my door. It was Stark Raven.

  "Mind if I come in?” she asked politely.

  "No, not at all, if you don't mind hanging out while I brush my hair and slap on some makeup,” I grinned. Her easygoing and carefree manner made her immensely likeable, despite her nickname.

  She smiled, and settled down in the large chair by the window. “I've been meaning to talk to you, if you have a few moments."

  I paused, noticing the serious tone in her voice. “Is something wrong?"

  Raven pulled her long legs up underneath her, no easy feat considering the gauzy dress she was wearing. “I'd like to do a reading for you."

  I frowned, and hoped she wasn't about to whip out a cup of soggy tea leaves. “What sort of reading?"

  "You know I have the Sight, aye?"

  "That's what you said,” I admitted. I wasn't sure how much of this stuff I believed, but I didn't want to hurt Raven's feelings.

  "I see things in you,” she said gently. “I think you may be in danger, and if you are, you should know about it ahead of time, aye?"

  I suppressed a shiver. “What kind of danger?” I peered back into the mirror and began to brush my hair.

  "I don't know, exactly. But you do know the Spaldings are charged to protect the Murray, aye?"

  "Isn't that your brother's job, not yours?” I asked.

  "Don't laugh about it, Brynne,” she told me. “I know you don't understand all of it, not having grown up here at Kilgraeme. But we take it quite seriously.” She played absently with her collection of jingly bracelets.

  I brushed on some makeup, and studied myself in the mirror. As I swiped on a dash of lipstick, I realized my lips were a little puffy, and Cayden Spalding's image came to mind unbidden.

  Stop thinking about him, I ordered myself.

  "Okay,” I sighed. “So what is it you want to do?"

  She clapped her hands like a small child. “Oh, it will be fun, aye? We'll have a wee séance here after dinner. Have you ever been to one before?"

  "Well, when I was in eleventh grade I went to a slumber party and we played with a spirit board. Does that count?"

  "Only if the board told you something,” Raven said solemnly.

  I thought for a moment. My friends and I had sat on the floor at Tori Drayton's house, placing our freshly painted nails on the little flat stylus. It had zoomed around the board, whipping from one letter to the next, making absolutely no sense at all. At least, not until Tori asked the board who would be taking her to the Junior prom. It immediately spelled out the name of Horace Vandermeer, who was quite possibly the biggest geek in our school, and we all collapsed on the floor in hysterics.

  Tori didn't go to the prom with Horace, but she did marry him seven years later after he founded his own software company.

  "It didn't tell me a thing,” I admitted. “So what do you do at a séance?"

  "Don't worry,” she smiled. “I'll take care of everything. I just need to make sure we have the right people there, aye?"

  "Are some people wrong for a séance?” I asked. I had meant it as a joke, but Raven took me quite literally.

  "Oh, aye,” she said, her gray eyes widening. “There's some people seem to attract negative vibrations."

  "Negative vibrations,” I repeated. “Okay."

  She frowned. “You don't believe me, do ye?"

  "Look, my brother Gil and his partner, Mark, they're all into this kind of stuff,” I explained kindly. “They own a new age bookshop, and they sell all kinds of things from fortune cards to astrology charts and crystals that ward off negative energy. But, Raven, I've never personally seen any evidence that it's real, okay? It's not that I doubt you,” I added hastily. “I just don't know. You know?"

  She wasn't offended. “Well, perhaps after tonight, you may believe a wee bit, aye?"

  "Maybe,” I grinned. “So who will be there?"

  Raven pondered this for a moment. “I'll have to mull that over for a while. Caitriona, for sure, and Mrs. Much. They're both quite receptive to the spiritual.” She bounced out of the chair in a graceful leap, and skipped towards the door. “I'll see you in a bit, aye?"

  With that, Raven was gone.

  I stood at the window for a while, staring out onto the lawns of Kilgraeme. The Gathering would last one more day, ending Sunday with the ceilidh. Caitriona Spalding was on the stage, playing an acoustic set with her band, and I heard the thump of the bodhran drum even from my distant vantage point. Cait's voice registered somewhere around a car alarm. Off near the bleachers, Emily Much chatted happily with Wallace Wallace, who looked quite pleased to be in her company.

  It crossed my mind that once she figured out what to do about the child she was carrying, she might be considerably better off with Wallace Wallace than Danny Beaton. I knew very little about Wallace, but I did know that he hadn't slept with half the women in Kilgraeme, which was more than I could say for Danny.

  I wondered about our erstwhile herb gardener. The DNA test results should be in any time, but so far we had heard nothing. With Emily Much's alibi, perhaps the police could rule him out as a suspect. On the other hand, that meant that a murderer was walking around free. I preferred the marauding drifter theory, but as Cayden Spalding had pointed out, it was entirely possible that Sandie's killer was someone here at Kilgraeme.

  My barwench dress was in need of a good laundering, so rather than put it back on, I decided to forego costuming for dinner tonight. I pulled on a pair of clean jeans and a tank top, then layered my thick sweater over it. The lower floors of Kilgraeme, nearly all flagstone, were chilly, and I wriggled my toes into boots.

  It was nearly six, so I scurried down to the great hall for dinner. Something smelled divine. Once again, Mary Much had provided a meal fit for royalty.

  Reluctantly, I took my place at the head of the table. It seemed so formal, due in no small part to the fact that I was a person who was used to eating on a couch in front of my television, wearing pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

  I sat, and everyone else took their places. After three months of this, I was beginning to get into the routine of the whole dinner thing. In a way, it was kind of nice.

  I was seated between Raven and Caitriona, who looked enough alike to be twins, although Cait was a few years older than Raven. Raven was still wearing her gauzy elf-queen thing, and Cait was poured into a pair of black leather pants, high boots, and matching halter top. Although it seemed rather chilly for a halter top, if I was blessed with a body like Caitriona's, I would dress that way too, in any weather.<
br />
  Mack Piper and Emily Much joined us. There was still no sign of Evan Muncaster, and I began to worry a little. I glanced up and noticed Trish watching me from the other end of the table. She winked at me, and nodded her head towards the door.

  Mumbling an excuse about forgetting to wash my hands before I ate, I stood up and went into the corridor. A few moments later, Trish emerged as well.

  "What?” I snapped ungraciously.

  She blinked, and I saw the ghost of a smile creep into her face. “Don't you want to know where Evan is? I saw you looking around for him."

  I sighed, and rolled my eyes. “Okay, Trish. I'll play. Where on earth is Evan?"

  Trish nibbled a firetruck-red fingernail coyly. “He's really pissed."

  "Go on.” If Evan was mad about me not wanting to be engaged to him, he would get over it in time.

  "Don't you want to know why?"

  "Oh, right, like you know,” I snorted, and turned to open the door back into the dining hall.

  Trish caught my arm. “But I do, he told me,” she purred.

  "Trish, get your hand off me. Now,” I said firmly. I couldn't hide my dislike for the woman.

  She obliged, and took a step back. “Wouldn't you be mad too?"

  I waited patiently. “You have exactly ten seconds, and then I am going back in there to eat."

  "He's mad about today."

  "Today? I haven't even seen Evan today,” I said, startled.

  "Mm, no, but he saw you,” she grinned. “And our redheaded recluse.” She made a kissy face and winked at me.

  I groaned inwardly. I had totally disregarded Evan when I was coerced, okay, maybe not coerced, into giving Cayden Spalding a kiss for good luck. And it wasn't even supposed to be a real kiss, just a little, harmless one.

  I kept my voice level. “Thank you, Trish. I'll be sure to discuss it with Evan the next time I see him."

  Throughout the rest of dinner, I was fortunate in that Cait and Raven managed to keep everyone entertained, and so very little was actually expected of me. In addition to having a lovely singing voice, Caitriona was hilariously funny and had us all in stitches at her tales of life on the road with her band. Raven, although considerably more serious, was a good sport, and didn't even complain at Cait's dead-on impression of her.